How Bizarre, How Random, How.....

Chapter V -- To Trust the Midget or Not, That is....

“You don’t suppose it’s a ghost truck…..”

And a figure hopped out, and landed straight on the ground with bent knees. A little fellow, barely five feet tall, blond bearded, bandana wearing, and sun-goggled.

“Howdy,” said he, and held out a hand even when he was that far away.

“Hi,” said both.

“Police officers, my favorite kinds of people, and what can I do for you? I notice you don’t have a car around, and you’re perspiring too. So maybe you want a lift. I’d be much obliged, for as I’ve said, you’re my favorite kinds of people.”

“We’re chasing a convict; well not technically a convict, but a suspect. He slashed our tires, and…….”

“Howdy-yowdy-yo, where’s that smoke comin’ from?”

“He did that.”

“Who, your partner?”

“No, for God’s sakes, the convict, the eh, suspect. He booby-trapped the car.”

“He first slashed your tires, and then booby-trapped the car? But why would you want to get inside if you saw the tires had already been slashed? Or maybe you didn’t see it. So when you realized that the car was booby-trapped, you rushed out, and just as you were rushing out, you saw that the tires had been slashed, and then the car blew up, am I wrong?”

“No,” again perfect simultaneousness, perfect synchronicity.

“Then?”

“He slashed our tires, you know, cops, we’re given our own cars, and then when we ran into him, and then he….we, we somehow entered it, and we drove, and we were chasing him, and then he was driving a red car, and then it struck us that our car may have been booby-trapped, and then we got out, and then the car exploded. Get it?”

“No, not really. So you got the guy, you threw him out of the car, and then he somehow managed to get himself a new one, red, pardon me if I’m wrong, and you followed him, and then got away just as the car went up…..”

“Yes, you got it right. Now, please, we need a lift.”

“Sure, no problem, for my favorite kinds of people. Come on right in.”

They got into the back side, which was really comfortable, really, the old fellow traveled in style apparently, there was a couch to rest on, a TV and DVD player for entertainment’s sake, not bad for getting around the country.

“I can see that you like it.”

“Yes, it is really nice.”

“ Boy, this can go fast.”

“We’re not really in a hurry.”

“But you wanted to catch somebody.”

“Yes, we still do. But we’ve got no clues, other than it was a red car, and that’s not enough to go on, and we’re rather tired besides, so we’re going to let the state troopers on this, and we also don’t want to discover an abandoned red car and have that blow on our faces.”

“By the way, my name’s Charlie. Charlie McGraw.”

“Well, nice to meet you Charlie. Were Officers………….”

“Charlie McGraw, or as some call me, Little Charles McGraw, or as some others call me, Big Charlie McGraw, just as they called that guy, what’s his name, Robin Hood’s friend, the big guy, they called him little something, just like that. Actually, you’ve got more choices, yes sir, you have, you’re never out of names to call Charlie McGraw, there’s Little Charlie McGraw, there’s big Charlie McGraw, and now hear this, there’s also Hillbilly Charlie, and that’s my own preference, yes sir. You see, I’m not from these parts, which you also might be able to tell from my accent. I’m from what you might call Hillbilly Country, and I’m mighty proud of that fact, I am, so if you prefer to call me Hillbilly Charlie McGraw, you’re more than welcome, in fact, I recommend you call me Hillbilly Charlie, or Hillbilly Charlie McGraw, whatever suits your fancy, though I’d prefer if you called me by the first, just Hillbilly Charlie, although I have nothing against my family name, none at all, its just that family names can be a little tedious sometimes, you’re always carrying it around with you, its like a family dog that just don’t die, you know, you got this here pooch, been sittin’ on its haunches for years, now, years, now I’m talkin’ out of here ex-peer-ence, not mine, but someone close, an uncle. See, I got me an uncle Timmy, not now, he’s been dead years now, but when I was young, man I remember them days like it was yesterday, and anyway he had this here fine pooch, don’t remember his name now, it was one of them hound things, you know, a bloodhound, had a taste for smell like you never saw. Day-amn, but he could smell from far-a-way that mutt. And like I was saying, one day it just sat on its haunches and wouldn’t get up, and ‘twas that way for years. I remember my Uncle Timmy finally had to get his rifle and put the feller to sleep, ‘twas a sad day, I tell you, sad for the whole family, ‘coz that mutt, he was like family, especially to me. My Uncle Timmy and my Aunt Fanny, that’s his wife, they’d tell me that that dog was meant to be mine, and I felt that way too sometimes, that’s why ah remember him so well. Oh, he used to come down and sit beside me, like a sausage he’d spread himself around, and look it me with those ever so sad brown eyes, like he was telling me a sad story, like how he missed his mama. I tell you, I ain’t one of them guys forever goin’ behind animal rights and all that, but that dog, man he was almost human in some respects. I got a respect for that kind of dog.”

“What about your uncle Timmy?”

“You want to hear about my Uncle Timmy? That was a man, a man’ s man as we say down in Georgia, he died broke and penniless, but he never said a word ‘bout it. My aunt Fanny, God rest her soul, but she was cruel to him in the end, she left him. ‘Coz he didn’t make himself any money, ‘coz he drank too much of that day-amn moonshine. I tell you, that moonshine’s nothing to be messing around with. I’ve seen too many kids to that to themselves. But my uncle Timmy, thank the Lord he’s with him now, he was a jewl, man if you think his dog make me cry, think ‘bout what he must do to me. And he was like my daddy, no he was better than my daddy. I hate to say that about my daddy, but the Lord knows that’s the truth. I seen men come n go and none was better than my Uncle Timmy and that’s the truth, and if God knows any better, he’d better tell.”

And Hillbilly Charlie was silent for a while, as if in quiet reminiscence of his favorite uncle, and then he suddenly broke into liveliness.

“You fellers in the mood for some music? Some Good old fashioned southern rock?”

“Sure, as long as its not Lynyrd Skynyrd,” said Flagherty.

“Oh, don’t say that, breaks my heart. Anyway, I ain’t no Skynyrd-o-phile myself, as lots of my friends are. Me, I prefer The Allmun Brothers.”

“Sure, put that on,” said Graham, who liked the Brothers himself.

Duane Allman’s trembling guitar soon filled the truck. Flaherty rested his head on the couch and gave off a deep contented sigh. Graham bobbed his head up and down to Berry Oakley’s deep bass plucks. Deep south blues and elegant jazz and even some heartfelt country, that’s what the Allman Brothers were, and in Duane’s guitar you heard all of that, a white tinged perspective yes, but tinged as little as possible. The sounds of the Deep South were there, learned and preserved, and also that of the urbane South, of New Orleans and whispering jazz solos floating over bars and minds clouded with marijuana, of St. Louis and Chicago and Harlem, where the sounds had migrated to with the musicians, of Miles Davis and his ability to streamline a note till it gleamed at its very peak, and John Coltrane’s inherent need to make his music deeper and more mysterious than any that had thus far been attempted….

Charlie the Hillbilly put on speed, and suddenly he lurched back and snapped his fingers at them. Flaherty looked to see where he was pointing at his rearview mirror, to a red car that was beside them at approximately the same speed.

“Now I don’t know where that came from,” he said dazedly, “one minute, the road was empty, the next moment, there it was. Freaky, I swear.”

The policemen were equally confounded, and then the red car did a most odd thing, it sped fast past them and took a sudden turn so that it sent dirt and bits of tire flying and then it stopped, blocking their path entirely.

“Oh heck,” said Charlie, as he pushed the brakes hard and brought the truck to a halt that sent both policemen flying out of their seats. One of them landed his head on the wall beside and was lucky that it was leathered. The other went straight down on his face and felt sure that he’d broken his nose. He kept twisting it around for confirmation.

He was still twisting when The Kid got out of the car and walked over to them. Charlie opened the door, and the Kid without asking for permission bounded straight up and looked straight at the surprised policemen. Flaherty quit testing his nose for major defects.

“Hold him,” Graham said, “he’s the suspect.”

But The Kid held up his hands, as if he was ready to be arrested, and looked at Graham with an arrogant air, as if questioning his intelligence. In any case, Little Charlie jumped up and held him, and it was evident that for such a little fellow, he had an inordinate amount of strength.

“Goddamn, it release me. I’m not going to fly away.”

“Well, you certainly sneaked behind us very mysteriously young feller,” said McGraw.

“Oh come on. That’s because I was staying right in your blind spot. Now release me.”

“Release him,” said Flaherty, and Graham gave him an angry look.

“Look, things are not what you think they are,” said the boy.

“We figured, after your sudden disappearance,” said Flaherty.

“No, you’ve got no idea what’s going on,” said the boy.

“So tell us, we’re listening. Is it ghosts, UFOs…..er…those things. The paranormal.”

“Nope. None of that. But it’s a conspiracy to keep things away from you nevertheless.”

“And what sort of conspiracy might that be,” asked McGraw, and Flaherty had a sneaking suspicion, which he kept to himself, that he was in it too. Well, everybody might be in it except him. That was the nature of conspiracies. You never knew who was in and who wasn’t. You could only be sure about yourself.

“Well, this isn’t your usual conspiracy. Understanding it takes a little….look, I could die if I told you. Its that sort of conspiracy. And frankly, I don’t even know who to trust. You guys look simpleton enough so that an advanced conspiracy, such as that I am part of, you would never fit in, but then, sometimes it’s the gullible looking who are the most devious.”

“You can trust us, we’re innocent,” said Graham.

“So you say, but can I trust you?” asked the Kid incredulously.

“Look, tell us your name at least,” begged Flaherty, “ I don’t think names are necessarily to be kept secret, are they?”

“My name is…..oh never mind, what good will knowing my name mean to you? It’s a name, like any other. You’re Flaherty, and you’re Graham, and this here’s Charlie McGraw, otherwise known as Little Charlie McGraw, or Big Charlie McGraw, or Charlie the Hillbilly….”

“And how do you know that,” asked Charlie, with a none too convincing incredulousness.

“Ah, the things I know,” said the boy mysteriously.

“Come on then, tell us some,” squeaked Graham.

“They’ll all come at the proper time,” said the boy, and then with a punch to Flaherty’s already hurting nose and a hurtle over the boundary between the driver’s seat and the rest of the cabin, he was off, and when Charlie McGraw tried to stop him, he turned in mid-air and landed a kick right in his belly, and this put the little man out of action and put him huffing and puffing and clutching his belly, and the kid was quickly out, practically gliding down the stairs with some sort of superhuman effort, but then, but then, oh dear, he missed the last step and his all too confident gesture was quickly changed into surprise, surprise at his own follies, and with a yell he bounded somewhere he had no intention of going, and what further bad luck to happen to him but the fact of his trousers catching something and holding him back, and yes, that very thing was what happened, with the result that the kid, who felt himself hurtle forward directionless one second suddenly felt himself pulled back the next, and his cries became yo-yos or sirens, because he kept going forward and back, until finally all motion ceased and he dropped like a sack to the ground, banged his teeth against the hard concrete proper, lost an incisor and a half to it, began bleeding twin streams that converged into one a yard away and finally, with nothing else left to do, banged his hands on the ground and yelled for his mommy.

Whereupon the trio descended upon him, with one holding him to the ground and the other two grabbing him by the arms, and they pinned both down, unmindful of his persistent hollers, and dragged him up, but the boy was not done yet, for he let out kicks even though his legs were being tightly gripped. Graham lost his grip, and a knee promptly came and banged with his chin, causing both parties to the collision to curse and Graham reached out for it with force, but he mistimed and the knee landed on chin again, this time causing only him to yell and at this Graham was so lost to his fury that he gave a very uncharacteristic shriek and lunged at the boy, all while the other two were holding him where he was so that Graham could grab him too, but the boy had obviously seen that Graham was the soft spot here, and so he aimed yet another well placed knee at Graham’s chin, and this was so well placed that it had the effect of leaving Graham woozy and uncertain, and so Graham left holding him entirely, and the boy took advantage of this to swing his leg around, and this too was a well placed kick that caught Charlie the Hillbilly on his back and had him giving a yell, but Charlie wasn’t such a pushover as Graham was for he held himself and began climbing, for it was now certain that he’d had enough of Graham, that he had no faith in Graham’s ability to join them again, and Flaherty too was of similar mind, and so they proceeded up the stairway, while all the time they and particularly Charlie was met with kicks, and finally when they were at the top the kid concocted a deviously ingenious plan to send Flaherty down below, but this plan was seen at its final moments of execution by Charlie, who quickly left the boy’s top half to wrap his arms around his tensed leg, which was ready to shoot and land on Flaherty’s head, give him two or three broken teeth of his own, have bloody waterfalls come out of his mouth as had from the kid’s; and this move on Charlie’s part was so unanticipated that the boy was left with no other option but to bite, which he did, began, by which time Flaherty had pushed him well inside, and seeing their job done both let go of him, Charlie wincing because of the pain of the bite, and the boy expressed even more surprise at suddenly finding himself out the reach of solidity and in thin air, and down he went with a thud and last minute hands around his head, which really wasn’t necessary because the ground was padded.

Their quarry on the ground, the strange duo were in the act of self-congragulation when the kid, still not done, reared his bloody mouth and bit Charlie in the leg, and was promptly in the process of getting out, but for Flaherty, who saw, in the circumstances, the only weapon that might work, a dainty fire-extinguisher well enclosed within its space and went to get it out, was met with the resistance offered when trying to retrieve something that is tightly compacted, cursed, broke a fingernail or two, but finally got it out, at which time the boy had yet again gotten the better of his little would-be captor and was already on the way out, and this caused him much doom and gloom, but at that very moment hope shone brightly, hope in the unlikely form of Graham, who at the very moment the kid was going down was coming up, and so they collided, and this was one moment that their accident hurt the Kid more than Graham, and he was holding his broken nose, Flaherty came from behind and ejected out as much foam as he could, all over the boy, over his cries, and it was a minute or two before the can was empty, and by then everyone was on board and the boy had been knocked unconsciousness by the act of spraying and therefore all finally heaved huge sighs and gave each other the thumbs up.

Having no rope to tie him with, they used their clothes, bed sheets, whatever they could find, and they used them thoroughly, so that the boy, for all his Houdini like skills he may have had, would never, never manage to break through. All were breathing heavily as a result.

Flaherty, for some reason, was even more convinced of McGraw’s complicity in the conspiracy.